


One More Last Goodbye

by MasterTLA



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Realities, Happy Ending, M/M, slight angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-11
Updated: 2016-07-25
Packaged: 2018-03-22 07:36:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3720499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MasterTLA/pseuds/MasterTLA
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How Stiles went from being chased by a witch to traveling with her to another reality shall forever be one of those things he just can't explain. </p><p>He didn't know how but he knew why. </p><p>He would do anything for Derek, in <i>any</i> reality.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Stiles ran as fast as his legs would carry him- as fast as his puny human legs would fucking carry him. If he were a wolf this wouldn't be a problem. Damn him and his damned desire to remain human!

"It's cute that you think you can run from me," the witch said, suddenly appearing before him.

"Ah, fuck!" he exclaimed, stopping suddenly and tumbling to the ground. He landed hard on his hands and knees. "Ow..." he whimpered.

"Stop being a baby," the woman said, nudging him with her shiny black boot. "Why do they always run when I'm only trying to help?"

The question was very obviously rhetorical but Stiles was all about answering quesitons. "You started throwing spells at me. What the hell was I supposed to do?"

The pretty dark-haired woman rolled her eyes. "We've never met before so what exactly would I be trying to hurt you for?"

"Um, hello, why are you trying to 'help me'?" he questioned, standing up. He brushed himself off. "You said it yourself, we've never met."

"Look," she sighed, "Do I need to turn you into something that can't talk? Or can I try to explain what I'm trying to do?"

"Why couldn't you have just done that in the first place!?" Stiles exclaimed. For real though. He was all about talking things out; she's the one who just started slinging balls of light at him. But he knew better than to argue with a witch so he sighed too. "What can I do for you?" he questioned calmly.

"Thank you," the witch said before she began her little speech. "I said we've never met. That's not entirely true. I've met you before in another place. We-"

"What, like in another life? Was I a badass?" he interrupted happily. That would be so cool.

"Can I finish?" She sounded just like Lydia; he kept his mouth shut. "Okay. No, not in another life, how old do you think I am? Don't answer that!" she hurried. "I'm from another-how should I say this....? Another realm? World? You could say another reality."

"Alternate realities are a thing?"

"Of course they are," she replied. "You were less annoying over there. Like I was trying to say, we-"

"Wait. You used the past tense. I _was_ less annoying? Did I leave? Did I-"

"You died," she said bluntly. "Have you had any nightmares about dying?"

He scoffed. "Have you seen my life? I've had plenty of nightmares, trust me."

"Nightmares and dreams are more than just images conjured in your head while you sleep. The ones that feel real, the ones that don't have imaginary things in them, those are memories from another reality. Little flashes here and there of yourself in other realms of existence. Sometimes they seem random while other times they correlate to something going on currently in your life." She crossed her arms over her chest. "Tell me about your nightmare."

Stiles had to take a minute to let this all sink in. He could remember things from alternate realities? The thought raised the hair on the back of his neck. His last nightmare had been one of the worst. "I um..." He hugged himself and tried to warm the sudden chill. "Hunters gave us some time ago. They were tough and mean, brutal. Even the Argents were freaked out by their level of brutality. These guys didn't care if their victims were human or wolf. Everyone was fair game." He shuddered when he remembered his dream. "In my dream, they captured me. They tortured me for information on Derek. I woke up in a cold sweat before I gave them anything." What scared him more than the pain or the hunters had been his fear that he would help them get to Derek.

The witch placed a hand on his shoulder. "You never said anything," she said as if she read his mind. "You protected him until the end." Or as if she had been there. "By the time we found you, it was too late. You were hurt beyond both mine and Alan's power."

Stiles felt his eyes water, but he was oddly proud. He was glad that he didn't hurt- "Derek," he said suddenly. "Derek in this other reality, I'm dead? Is he okay?"

She sighed. "That's why I'm here. The only thing keeping him alive is his bond with the pack. He won't talk. He won't eat. He barely moves. If he weren't a wolf he would be dead."

"Well how am I supposed to help? I can't exactly talk some sense into him."

"But you can!" she exclaimed. "I can take you to him!"

His heart jumped, but, "I can't leave my Derek or my pack." He didn't want Derek to hurt in any reality but also wasn't going to abandon him either.

"Look," she said, "Our Derek never got to say goodbye. You died almost as soon as you were in his arms. We searched for days to find you. I'm sure your Derek feels the same way, everything is his fault. _He_ didn't try hard enough. _He_ didn't get to you in time. _He_ shouldn't have let you out of his sight. He won't throw the blame on anyone else even though I-" She stopped suddenly as tears choked the words out of her. She took a deep breath. "He needs to know that somewhere else, Heaven or another world, but somewhere you're okay. You're not in any pain. You're alive. And then he deserves to say goodbye. The last time he sees you can't be the bloody mess we found that awful day."

"What if this just makes everything worse?" he replied. "Won't it be like losing me twice?"

"We can play the ghost or angel card or something. I can make you glow, I can make you transparent, anything. He needs this, Stiles."

The human looked her up and down and _really_ looked at her. "You're going really far to do this," he said. "And where are you in this world?" Dark hair, pretty eyes, she was definitely Derek's type of girl. Was she an ex? But she seemed to genuinely care about the man so she couldn't be any of the exes Stiles had heard about.

"My name is Clara," she said. "You may know my idiot husband who started this whole mess in Beacon Hills."

"Peter's Clara!?" Stiles exclaimed wide-eyed.

"Yes. I married a man who acts before thinking things through. I would have killed him myself if Derek hadn't done it that first time." She smiled, "But when you love someone you forgive them." She shook her head. "We're still working on it, but this isn't about Peter. It's about Derek. Will you come?" She offered her hand.

Stiles looked at the offered hand for a moment before making his decision. "You can bring me back here?"

"Yes, I can. We only need to be gone as long as it takes to help my nephew."

The human really wished he could hear her hearbeat to see if she was lying. He felt like she was telling the truth, but she was married to Peter after all. She could be totally serious right now but decide to keep him in her reality forever later.

What made his mind was an image of Derek, sad, hurt, and alone in the home they built together. He couldn't imagine a world without Derek, so he could only guess at what this other Derek was going through. "Okay," he decided, "Okay, let's do it. I want to help." He took her still offered hand.

"Wonderful!" she exclaimed, beginning to pull him along. "Let's go to Alan's!"

"Deaton knows about all of this?"

She scoffed. "Of course he does," she replied. "You're a lot dumber over here too."

"You sound just like Peter," he returned, annoyed.

"Thank you," she shot back with a wink.

What had Stiles gotten himself into?

**TLA**

"You're a what?" Stiles questioned as the vet painted weird designs on his bare torso.

"A Constant," he replied, never looking away from his work. "I'm one of few who can actively remember alternate realities."

"Is that why you seem to know everything?"

The darker skinned man chuckled. "You could say that," he replied. He sat down his brush. "All done."

"Perfect!" Clara clapped her hands. "Now traveling between realities won't kill the poor boy."

"Excuse me!?" Stiles exclaimed. "This could kill me!?"

"It could," Deaton answered, putting his stuff away.

"But now it can't," Clara pointed out. "You'll be fine. Trust me."

"How many times have I heard that and it _not_ turned out fine?" he mumbled to himself. "You're doing it for Derek; You're doing it for Derek." He hopped off of the table he'd been seated on and paced a little bit. "Hashtag doin' it for Derek," he continued to mumbled to himself.

"He didn't act like this in my world," the woman said quietly to the vet.

Alan smiled. "I know. This Stiles has experienced some different outcomes then yours though."

Clara nodded her head. Yes, he probably had. She didn't push the vet for anymore; she was on a mission. "Stiles," she called, pulling the young man from himself. "How would you like to do this? What would be the easiest and least painful way for Derek do you think?"

Stiles thought about it for a minute. It would probably work best if he could play himself off as some sort of spirit. He didn't want to be an angel per se, but something similar. "Something between a ghost and an angel, I think. Maybe I could glow a little bit, but I don't want to be transparent. And he has to be able to touch me. He won't think it's real if he can't touch me."

"I can do that!" the woman said. "That's easy. Are you ready?"

"Deaton," he said, turning his attention to the vet, "Tell Derek I'll be back in a few days. But don't tell him where I am. Make something up. He'll never let me live this down if you say I'm traveling realities with his deceased aunt."

"I'm sure I can think of something," the vet replied with a grin.

Stiles didn't like that devious glint in the man's eyes, but he didn't have time to think about it. He turned back to Clara. "I'm ready."

"Okay, let's go."

**TLA**

Traveling between realities was a lot like portkey traveling in the Harry Potter movies. He felt like he had been sucked through something and then spat out on his ass. It was the kind of fall that snatched your breath away before you could even voice your hurt. It felt like he'd snapped his butt bone in half. He stood though and shook it off.

He wasn't sure what he was expecting when he landed, maybe a red sky instead of blue. Maybe leaves were purple instead of green. He at least expected it to look a little different, but if he hadn't just experienced the travel then he never would have guessed that he left.

"Let me look at you," Clara instructed. Stiles stood still obediantly as the woman worked some magic on him. She didn't mess with the markings Deaton had made, but she put him in a soft white shirt and pants. His skin took on a healthy glow and then intensified to the point of looking like he was giving off light. The last thing she did was remove his shoes and socks. "Perfect," she decided with a nod.

"You don't think the white is too much?" he questioned.

"You look good in white," she replied. "It's the complete opposite of the dark shape we found you in that day. White is perfect."

Stiles nodded in agreement then. He looked around and noticed where they were standing, in his and Derek's yard. There was their house. "He won't hear us?"

She shook her head. "We haven't completed the cross over into this realm yet. You'll feel it when we have, but I'm going to leave before I finish the spell. When I'm gone you can go up to the house. You won't get hungry, you won't need sleep, and I've taken away your scent. It'll be just like you're a spirit." She pulled him into a hug. "Bring our Derek back," she whispered.

"I'll try," he promised, hugging her back.

When they separated she didn't waste any time disappearing just as she said. He began to walk towards the house, and she was right. He could feel it when he was actually a part of this realm; it was like he got a little heavier. Cool.

He got a little distracted by his glowing hand as he reached up to knock on the door. 'Breathe,' he encouraged himself. With a slightly trembling hand, he knocked firmly on the door that he helped paint. He was about to knock again when he heard heavy footsteps heading his way.

When the door was pulled open he didn't hesitate. "Hello, Derek."


	2. Chapter 2

Stiles wasn't prepared for the person he greeted at the door. It was almost like a shadow of the man he left in the other world. His beautiful green eyes were dull and lifeless. His perfect tan skin was pale and sallow. His handsome beard was unkempt and thick, very Paul Bunyon-esque.

The human had seen Derek close to death, but he had never seen him like this. It wasn't death; this was... This was after death.

Stiles really wanted to cry at the sight, and he couldn't help but feel like this was all his fault. Sure, some other Stiles had died, but that other Stiles was still Stiles. And he had promised himself that he would never leave Derek. Never. He was sure his other self had too.

He couldn't cry right now though. This wasn't about him. He was alive; he had Derek; they were both still alive. This was about helping this Derek believe that.

The man in question was frozen, eyes wide and mouth agape. He seemed to have gotten paler, but there was a small spark in his eyes. A small flare of what looked like hope. "Stiles..."

The human tried to channel every reunited scene he had ever seen on TV, particularly ones that involved the living and the dead. He smiled softly, gently, letting the expression warm his eyes. "Hello, Derek," he said again.

"You- But you're-"

Stiles brought his hand up and placed a glowing finger over the wolf's lips. "Shh... I know." He watched as Derek closed his eyes at the touch. He almost looked soothed, like he had been dying of thirst and someone finally got him a glass of water. The human stepped closer, finger still against rough, chapped lips. "Can I come in?"

**TLA**

As soon as the pair left, Deaton left the room where they'd been and went to his office. "They just left," he said as soon as he walked in.

"I know; I heard. Everything went well- Stiles will be okay?"

"Don't worry, Peter," the vet replied reassuringly, "He'll be fine."

**TLA**

Stiles had to more or less let himself into the house and lead the way to the living room. He waited until the wolf was standing in front of him before he pulled the man into a hug. He squeezed tightly and enhaled the rich scent that was uniquely Derek's, even in this world. It was a little stale, and judging by the state of the man and the house, it wasn't hard to figure out why.

Derek wrapped his arms around a body he never thought he'd hold again and squeezed. He wasn't sure if he would be able to let go again. He was also certainly dreaming so he had no plans of waking up. For the first time in a while he felt like he could breathe. The crushing weight of despair that had settled itself over his chest was gone. He could breathe, and he actually _wanted_ to.

"You need to be taking care of yourself," the human scolded softly, feeling the new length of Derek's beard rub his skin.

"Anything," the wolf replied, voice gruff from not being used. "I'll do anything just don't leave me again. Don't let me wake up."

Stiles' heart clenched. "You're not dreaming," he said. "This is real. For now, I'm as real as you are." He pulled back and looked into wet green eyes. "I can only stay a little while," he frowned. "I just... I had to see you." He offered the wolf a smile. "You know, the only thing wrong with my new home is having to wait for you." He popped a heavy hand on the man's chest real quick though. "But don't you dare come join me anytime soon. You got that?" he added sternly. "I've got all the time in the world to wait for you so don't go getting any ideas. You've still got your family, the pack, and someone needs to watch my-"

"Mom?" Derek questioned softly, with the slightest little smile.

Now that totally caught Stiles off gaurd. His mom was still alive in this world? 'Get a hold of yourself, Stiles!' he scolded himself. "Yes, yes, my mom." He smiled as if of course that's what he meant, but he was still reeling on the inside. "So many people need you, Derek," he added, pushing his head into the wolf's chest.

"And I need you," the man replied gruffly, holding the human tightly once more.

Stiles felt like a treasure that Derek didn't want to lose again. He felt loved and incredibly guilty all at the same time. He was Stiles, but he wasn't this guy's Stiles. And he would have to leave again. And he was going to make everything worse. He was going take a broken man and shatter him. He-

No. Stop it. Nothing is going to go wrong. He would never hurt Derek. This was going to help. He breathed in deep and moved back enough to where his lips were hovering just above the wolf's own. "You don't," he said softly, lips barely touching. "You don't need me Derek." Because he didn't. He never had. He was an amazing, beautiful, wonderful man all on his own.

"But I-"

Stiles didn't let him continue. He cut him off with the small movement it took to push their lips together.

It was a little off at first, almost like Derek wasn't sure what to do with himself. Stiles was almost worried that he messed up, but then the wolf seemed to catch himself. In a flash, Derek wrapped one strong arm around the human's waist, pulled them flush together, and placed his free hand on the human's face. The kiss went from chaste and sweet to deep and wet.

All Stiles could do was hold on for the ride. He could barely even stand, Derek was holding him so tightly. He buried his hands in soft dark hair that was so similar yet so different. This whole thing was familiar but new at the same time. He was still kissing _Derek_ , but this Derek had rougher lips and slightly longer hair. His beard was overgrown but damn, it was hot.

He didn't even notice they were moving until his back hit the nearest wall. It surprised a moan out of him, and he lifted his head to give the wolf easier access to his neck. He moaned again when a hot tongue slid over his skin.

"I missed that sound," Derek growled into soft pale skin. He needed to hear it more. He needed to remember this and keep it in his mind, in his heart. He was dreaming, he had to be, so this wouldn't last. He needed to take advantage of it while he could. He pulled back and looked at the perfectly debauched human. He smirked. "I've always told you that your skin glows, haven't I?"

Stiles breathed out a chuckle because yeah, he had. It was always when Stiles was busy woe-is-me-ing when the pack showed up perfectly tan while he peeled off an itchy sunburn. "You did," he replied, smiling. He moved a hand from Derek's hair and placed it on his cheek. It was weird to see the glow of his own skin against Derek's. He actually forgot that he was glowing, but seeing it now... It was kind of...

Hot.

Weird.

But hot.

Stiles traced Derek's lips, goosebumps rising on his arms when the wolf released warm breath over his fingers. "We should, um..." He got distracted when the wolf got his tongue involved. He cleared his throat. "Um, we should... Bedroom?" he more or less squeaked out.

Derek pulled away and grinned. "Can you do that?"

Stiles scoffed. "I'm going to," he replied, like 'duh.' His eyes widened. "If you want to," he added, actually thinking about it now. This wasn't supposed to be about him; this was for Derek.

"Always," Derek replied softly with a kiss.

This kiss was probably one of the most intense moments Stiles had ever experienced. It was calm, slow, and sweet, but so deep. It was more than a physical thing. Stiles could feel it deep in his bones. It was so good but it felt like a goodbye. It felt like a last time kind of thing.

"You're crying," Derek whispered, forhead resting against Stiles'.

"I don't want to leave you again," was the first thing that came out of his mouth. Which was weird because he hadn't left Derek. But it felt like he had. He felt like he left before and he would have to leave again. And it hurt. And it made him feel like a-

"Hey, no," the wolf said soothingly, rubbing his back. "Don't cry." 

Fuck. He was supposed to be making Derek feel better not the other way around. Stiles pushed away from the man. "I'm sorry," he said, wiping his eyes. "This is a lot harder than I thought it would be."

"What do you mean?" the wolf replied.

'Don't screw this up, Stiles,' the human scolded himself. "It's just... I wanted to make sure you were alright and now I'm not so sure this was a good idea." Once he started he couldn't stop. "I don't want to hurt you again."

"Seeing you is never a bad idea," Derek said firmly, surely.

Gods, Stiles loved this man. In any reality. He grabbed onto the wolf and kissed him, trying to say everything that he couldn't say in words with this kiss. Everything this other Stiles would say, maybe more.

This time, they got much further than the wall. Stiles managed to get his legs around the wolf's waist and let himself be carried down the hallway and into the master bedroom. It looked like his and Derek's room back in his world, but the bed was another color. Instead of green, which Stiles had picked for Derek's eyes, this bed was a deep purple. He got to see it up close when he was placed on top of it.

"You look good in purple," the wolf grinned. But it wasn't just something he said, it was almost like something Stiles should recognize. Was it something he used to say to the other Stiles? Had he picked out this bedspread because Stiles looked good on top of it?

Stiles blushed, and words spilled out of his mouth against his will. It was like someone else made him speak. "Don't you mean on top of purple?" Which, w-t-f, why would he say that?

Well, whatever the reason, Derek chuckled, and the look on his face at the odd reply was worth everything. "It really is you," he said, green eyes glistening.

Stiles smiled. "Of course it is."

There was no more talking until a few moments later when Stiles somehow ended up the only one without any clothes. He also discovered that the glowing spell had been cast over all of his anatomy, all of it. He probably should have expected this to happen; he and Derek had always had a very physical relationship. In the beginning it was the wolf shoving him into things and steadily progressed to more intimate things. It was-

"What are these?" the wolf questioned, looking intently at the markings Stiles had completely forgotten about.

The human looked down at himself. The paint had faded into his skin, almost like the designs had become a part of him. It almost looked like really bitching birthmarks. "These are the reason you can see me," was the best he could come up with. Considering the fact that it was true, he wasn't too bothered by it. "I think they look kind of cool," he added.

He giggled when Derek's finger traced a design on his side. This seemed to ding an evil lightbulb in the wolf's mind because he smirked and got his other hand in on the tickle-attack. Stiles would be lying if he said he didn't squeal when the attack first started. He then began to flop around like a fish out of water to escape, but Derek had a good hold of him. "Fuck," he whined, "Stop." Naked wrestling was only fun if they were both naked.

The wolf stopped the attack, but he looked confused. Had Stiles messed up again? "Did you just say 'fuck'?"

"Um... yes?" He loved to say 'fuck.' It was such a universal word: an adjective, a verb, an adverb, he could even use it as a noun. How many other words could do that? But what had Derek so confused? Hadn't he met the man who raised Stiles? The Sheriff had a tough job, letting the 'f' word slip around his young son was nothing news worthy.

That's when he remembered. No, Derek hadn't met the Sheriff. Because in this world Stiles was raised by his mom, not his dad. And his mom would have made him eat a bar of soap if she ever heard that word fall from his lips. Fuck, fuck, fuck, he screwed up! 'Think, Stiles! Think!' he encouraged himself. "Blame my dad," he decided with a shrug. That was easy.

"Your dad?"

Stiles nodded. "Who do you think has been keeping me out of trouble?"

The look on Derek's face was a mixture of things- sadness, pain, happiness, relief. All these emotions lit his eyes up a different way. It was like he couldn't settle on one thing to feel until he suddenly burst out laughing. It was one of the most beautiful sounds Stiles had ever heard. It wasn't a dark chuckle at someone's expense, and it wasn't a sarcastic laugh in response to someone's horrible joke. It was pure, delighted happiness. It was freedom from any dark thoughts of a bad past. It was something that Stiles always wanted to hear from his wolf.

And then the laughter turned to tears, and Stiles wasn't sure what to do. He was still naked but he wrapped the wolf up in a hug. "Derek?"

The man had to catch his breath before he could say anything, but he pushed the human back down into the mattress and offered him a soft smile. "I'm okay," he assured. "I'm more than okay," he added. "You don't know how much I needed to hear that."

"Hear what?"

"That you're not alone. That someone can keep their eyes on you until I get there."

"Which won't be for a long time righ-"

The kiss that cut him off was the last interruption they had from making love. Stiles could say 'sex' or 'fuck' but this was neither of those things. This is what happens when one of them comes too close to death, when they've gotten in an argument. This is how they did it when they were separated for more than a few days at a time. It was hello, goodbye; it was everything.

Is it cheating if it's with Derek, just in another reality?

Eh. Probably not, right?

Wait. So... When he has dreams about Derek, is he dreaming about other Stiles and other Derek getting it on? Because there was this one particularly interesting dream he had and holy crap! Other Stiles and other Derek are freaks! They-

"You still think as loud as you speak," a warm voice breathed into his neck. Derek sounded groggy but happy.

Stiles laughed and rolled over to face the man. "I'm sorry. How long have we been in the library?" he retorted. Really? Was he catching bits and pieces of other Stiles? His other self was a corn dog! Was it a side effect of being in this other reality?

Derek pulled him close with a laugh of his own. "I missed this. I missed you." He sighed after a moment of contented cuddling. "I don't know if I can let you go again."

Stiles sat up and rolled the man onto his back, straddling his hips. He laced their fingers together and rested them on either side of the wolf's head. It was a lot easier to assure eye contact this way. "If I had the power, I would stay here with you. Nothing would stop me from sticking to you. However, I don't have that authority. I can only stay as long as I can stay. I'm not even sure how long that is." He pressed their forheads together after a soft kiss. "I do know that one day we'll be together again, and nothing can separate us." He leaned back and smiled. "You can wait a bit longer right?"

Derek returned the smile, "Always."

**TLA**

Stiles managed to spend an entire week with other Derek and hardly left the bedroom at all. He would venture out with Derek to watch him eat, or he was convinced to hop in the shower a few times even though he apparently didn't need it (whatever spell Clara used on him he wanted to learn). He decided that he really liked Derek's longer hair because it was somewhat soothing to wash; he also liked tugging on it.

When he found an unmarked envelope (a letter from Clara) one night while Derek was asleep, he was worried that he wasted his time in this reality. He and Derek never left the house, not once. It was for the best, they both decided. But still, had Stiles done enough? Had he done anything?

He got his answer when he and Derek were saying their goodbyes. The man before him was a stark contrast to the man that had greeted him at the door. He no longer looked dead and still dying. His pretty green eyes were shiny and his skin had a healthy glow. He wasn't sad; he almost seemed excited.

Stiles raised a suspicious eyebrow. "You look a lot better than I thought you would," he said, not that he was complaining. He didn't want to see the man Derek had been a week ago. "Are you happy that I'm leaving?"

Derek laughed loudly, a boom of happiness that was infectious. "Never," he replied, pulling the human into a hug. He pushed them apart to look at him seriously. "But I know that someone is taking care of you when I can't. I also know," he added, lifting the human's chin gently, "That I'll see you again. And nothing could make me happier." He ended with a searing kiss.

Stiles had some things left that he wanted to say, but his brain melted. All he could manage was, "Yeah..."

He was pulled from that reality with the sound of Derek's laughter in his ears. It was lovely.

Landing still sucked. He was sprawled out on the floor of an office that he recognized.

"Welcome back, Stiles," Deaton said, not even looking up or offering assistence.

"Gee, thanks." A familiar pair of hands pulled him up off the floor. "Peter?"

"Welcome back," the wolf replied with a grin.

"Why do I get the feeling that I'm missing something?"

"Because you are?" the older man answered, still smirking. "As per the usual."

Stiles glared. "Hardy har har. What are you doing here? I thought you left."

"I did," Peter replied, looking around distastefully at the the vet's office. "I figured you all were as sick of me as I was of you. I thought it would be best if I went away for a while."

"And yet- here you are," the human pointed out. He shot a suspicious glance at the vet. "Did Deaton call you? Does Derek know you're here?"

"Peter actually called me," Deaton answered, putting away supplies. And woah. Wait. That's the stuff he painted Stiles with when he left a week ago. "You've barely been gone an afternoon," he pointed out. "Time is something that no one can predict despite how set our clocks are."

"O... kay.... So um, is anyone going to explain themselves or is this a lost cause? Because even if you say that it's only been an afternoon, I feel like a week has passed. The whole thing was very emotional and all I want to do now is octopus-cuddle with _my_ Derek. You know, the one that doesn't think I'm dead."

Peter stepped forward and grabbed Stiles by the elbow and started pulling him towards the door. "Deaton, thanks for all your help. I'll get him out of your hair so you can close up." He turned to Stiles. "We'll get coffee and I'll explain everything."

Which doesn't really mean anything because it's Peter, but coffee is always good so, "Let's do this."

The longer they sat outside the coffee shop the more Stiles could remember why he didn't like Peter. He's a big ol' creeper (And a diva. He couldn't even order his own coffee). He just has a way of staring and not saying anything that is just so.... _creepy_. And there was no one else sitting outside so it was just the two them- not even strangers' conversations to make it a little less awkward. He tried to last as long as he could because rushing Peter would never get him anywhere, but eventually he couldn't take it anymore. "Explain. Now. I'm not sure if you heard me earlier, but I have a cuddle session to get home to so any time now would be great."

"Just as mouthy and impatient as ever I see," the wolf replied without looking the slightest bit bothered. "Very well." He sat back in his chair and just traced the rim of his fancy and expensive coffee. "After the fire I was stuck in a coma, stuck in my own head and dreams. I became quite proficient in working through them. It's how I eventually met Clara."

"Your witchy wife," Stiles added. "I like her."

Woah- that's not a smile he's ever seen on Peter before. "Yes, she was rather great." He seemed to get lost in his memories for a moment. "Anyways, I can't remember a lot of the things that led to you and the pack killing me. Being trapped inside one's own head for a while is a lot like sitting alone in a dark and quiet room. All you can hear are your own ghosts swirling around inside your head until it drives you mad. However, I remember seeing Clara in my dreams- talking to her and holding her. It was like it was real. It felt as if I'd been taken to another world, another world where my own wasn't burnt down around me. Where she hadn't died in my arms."

Stiles reached across the table and placed a hand over the wolf's. He didn't let it linger (because awkward) but he wanted the man to know that he had his support no matter what had happened in the past.

"It wasn't until a few weeks ago that I saw her again after all these years. I don't know if they explained this to you, but if you recall what Deaton said, time is something no one can predict or control. It cannot be influenced or changed. A week passed for you in this other reality but a few hours passed here. When these alternate time lines manage to line up that's how you get that feeling of deja'vu. I'm sure Clara told you that certain dreams aren't dreams at all but memories of another place. When our time matches up with theirs we can remember."

Stiles must have made a face because Peter laughed. "That's about as simple as it can be explained. Only Constants can truly understand the dirtier inner workings of time."

"So why didn't Deaton volunteer to explain?"

"He could tell you more about the alternate realities that he remembers but he can't tell you why Clara came to take you to one."

That was the big question. The last time they'd heard from Peter he was halfway across the world. Not the country- the world. He stuck around for a few years after coming back to life, helping when he felt like it and basically being a giant dick. He usually only wasted his precious time if the problem they were dealing with was most definitely fatal instead of only possibly fatal. Uncle of the year material right there. Then, one day, he told them he was heading off and his room at the loft was empty the next day. The only thing he left behind was a sticky note that had the password to the safe where he kept his personal beastiery- the most extensive one in most of the United States (information is his hobby).

"So, why _did_ she come after me? Well- I know why, but _why_ why? You know what I mean?"

Peter grinned. "I know what you mean, and she came because I suggested it to her. I was in a small Russian town when I awoke with the memory of following Derek into the cellar of an old abandoned building, shoes sliding through your blood." He stared down at his coffe and Stiles could tell that he was no longer in the coffee shop but somewhere else. "The acrid scent of pain was so thick it just sat in the back of my throat like a nosebleed. Not an inch of your skin was unmarred by cuts and bruises, burn marks from fire and even scorch marks from electricity. They slit your throat eventually but not enough to kill you quickly. They wanted you to bleed out slowly- to suffer. Derek, he-"

Stiles pushed his cup away, stomach churning.

"Derek was so quiet." Peter's breathing picked up. "He was so quiet, Stiles. You know how he is with his emotions. If he's angry he'll yell. If he's upset he'll punch stuff. When he's scared his heart beats so loudly it's a wonder even you can't hear it. But when we found you? I could barely hear a thing coming from him, even his heart seemed to be whispering." Stiles had never seen Peter cry before, but those were definitely tears. "It wasn't until he held you close that I realized that he was being so quiet so he could hear your heartbeat. It was soft and faint, almost nonexistant, but it was there. His own heart wouldn't beat too loud so he could hear yours. You said something to him, but I couldn't catch it and that's when it stopped- his heart... _yours_... There was nothing; then, he howled." He cleared his throat and tried to compose himself. "It's another sound that will haunt my dreams."

Hearing the story, it was easy to see where the Derek he'd met a week ago had come from. Stiles doubted wholeheartedly that he would look any better if their roles had been reversed.

"The memory was so real that I began to make my way back to Beacon Hills," Peter continued, calmer and collected once more. "When I got back to the States I had another dream, this one featuring Clara. She was distraught, watching our nephew suffer without you. My stint in a coma gave me enough time to control my dreams, to alter these alternate memories. Mind you, I can't change what happened but I could give her a new thought. I thought to take you over there to help Derek out."

"How did you know that it would help?" Stiles asked, "What if seeing me again made it worse the second time?"

"Experience, Stiles," the wolf replied. "Seeing Clara in my dreams, remembering a life we share in another world where she's still alive helped pull me from the madness. It helped knowing that somewhere she was okay and we were together. I had enough moments of clarity to prepare my return to life and therefore restore my sanity." He laughed at the look Stiles shot him. " _Most_ of my sanity. Better?"

Stiles grinned and nodded. "So you wanted me to get magicked into another reality to help alternate-Derek get back on his feet? Why go through the trouble of setting all this up for an alternate Derek?"

"He's my nephew, my pack, no matter what reality he's in- don't you agree?"

Of course he agrees. He had the same thought himself. He didn't want his wolf to be hurt in any reality or existence, not if he could help it. It just so happened that he could this time. Actually, he would any time. Any place. He would find a way. "You know," he said, "You should stick around. I promise that none of us want to kill you anymore."

Peter laughed. "I plan on it; at least, for a little while." He pointed to Stiles' half filled coffee cup. "Why don't you finish that on your way home?"

Stiles thought about it for a minute before metaphorically throwing his hands up and deciding to fuck it. Peter was probably the human equivalent to time- something no one could ever truly understand. However, his explanation was enough for Stiles. He may not have a built in lie detector, but he could tell that every word Peter said was true. He wanted to ease his nephew's pain and found a way to do it so he did. It couldn't have been as simple or easy as it had ultimately sounded, but it was true. The human stood from his seat and grabbed his coffee. "Thank you, Peter. I'll see you around." He left with a spring in his step and a new acquired taste for Peter's friendship.

It seemed they found something they could both agree on: Derek.

**TLA**

"Derek!" Stiles called, walking through the front door, "I'm home!"

The werewolf in question appeared from their bedroom, clad only in a towel and his hair still dripping. "Why do you always yell when you come in? I can hear you just fine."

Stiles laughed and tossed his keys on the closest hard surface that wasn't the floor. "Husbands come home and yell at their wives. Let me have this." He walked over to the wolf and wrapped him in a hug.

Derek scowled. "I'm not your wife," but he could never turn down Stiles hug time. He lifted his arms and wrapped them around the human's waist. "Mmm. You smell like coffee; you didn't bring me any?" He pulled away and tried to put on the puppy dog eyes that Scott could do so well. "I'm hurt."

The human laughed again. "Don't cry, Sourwolf. I'll get you one next time."

This time, Derek's frown was real. "Huh."

"What is it?" Stiles questioned.

"I just had the weirdest flash of deja'vu," the wolf answered.

Stiles replayed his words in his head and he felt it too. Then, he remembered what Peter had said. _'You said something to him, but I couldn't catch it'_. 'Don't cry, Sourwolf.' That's what Peter hadn't heard. He pulled Derek close again and kissed him. "I love you," he said, snuggling close.

"I love you too," Derek replied with a smile, "But I'm also still wet and naked."

"Is that a bad thing?" Stiles waggled his eyebrows.

"It is when you could have texted me instead of getting coffee by yourself and then we both could have come back and showered together." The wolf chuckled and made his way back to their bedroom. "You missed out," he teased.

Stiles laughed and followed his wolf into their room. He enjoyed the view as Derek began to get dressed. "I didn't even think about sexy shower times! I'm the worst!" It would just be best if he didn't mention his week-long stint off with the other Derek. Deaton hadn't told him anything as Stiles had asked him to but then again, he apparently hadn't been gone long enough. No one would believe him if he said he was gone for a week anyways. Not even Peter, speaking of which, "I wasn't alone. I got coffee with Peter. We ran into each other," (not a lie), "and he invited me for a cup."

Derek stopped midway through pulling up a pair of tight jeans. He was pulling off a look that only he could make look sexy; Stiles would look ridiculous. The wolf turned towards Stiles with a frown and finished pulling his jeans up before walking to stand right in front of the human. He leaned forwards and very obviously scented him. "You smell like strangers, coffee, and yourself. I don't smell Peter."

"What?"

**TLA**

Peter felt a soft brush of magic as a warm body filled up the space behind him, slender arms wrapping around his chest and soft lips kissing his cheek. "Hello, darling," a light voice greeted him.

"Hello, Clara. Did it work? Is your Derek okay?"

The witch released him and sat across from him instead. "It worked wonders for him. He actually came out of the house; he got a hair cut. It was lovely." She smiled, "It's all thanks to you." She simply looked at him for a moment before her gaze turned stern. "You should have told him everything."

"If I told him everything they would try to stop it. I don't want Derek to end up like me," he replied.

"Maybe it wouldn't-"

Peter shook his head. "You know that it would." He looked down into his still full cup of coffee. "You saw what happened to me in your world. You were alive and well before me. Not a single scratch. Not a single tear. Not a single burn. You were perfect and whole, but I lost you here. My body refused to heal- my mind refused to settle. All I could see or hear or think was you dying in my arms. There was nothing good left."

"Peter...."

"I killed Laura, Clara. My own niece." He looked down at his hands, could still see her blood on them. "So many innocent people... _kids_... In your world too. Even though you were fine- I wasn't. That's how mates work for us, Clara. That's why it's so dangerous to find them. I lost you here and every version of me could feel it. If I hadn't been so hungry for knowledge as I grew up I never would have know about Constants or other realties. I never would have realized it was actually a living version of you I met in my dreams and not just a memory. I never would have healed. I never would have stopped killing."

He sighed and looked up at the sky. "It was only the two of them for the longest time, Laura and Derek. I took everything from him. I didn't even truly feel bad about it until I was resurrected- until I felt like my old self once more. I had to leave because I couldn't bear the weight of what I'd done, and then to have that dream. To _remember_ being there when we found Stiles too late.... I had to stop him from becoming like me. It was only a matter of time before it hit him."

Clara sniffled. "Always so selfless," she mumbled, wiping her eyes. "Whenever I think I can't possibly love you any more than I already do, you go and do something like this."

"Don't cry, love," Peter chuckled, "You know you have a hideous crying face."

"You ass!" Clara exclaimed, crossing her arms over her chest and glaring. "This is why no one in this world likes you."

Peter tossed his head back and laughed so hard it actually felt a bit uncomfortable. "I'm only teasing you," he said after he finally calmed down.

"Of course I know that," the woman replied. "You've always been like that. It's probably the one thing about you that every reality has in common. I'd bet money on it."

"Then it must be what every version of you likes so much about me," he replied with a grin.

"No," Clara disagreed, "It's not your glowing personality," she added with a wink. Her face softened as she looked at him. "It's your heart. Despite how hard you try to be an ass, the real you always shines through. You love fiercely and whole-heartedly. Even if it means your own life."

They both turned their heads as the bell above the coffee shop door chimed suddenly. An employee walked towards them with a plastic bin on his hip and a rag over his shoulder. He sat the bin down in an empty chair next to their table and grabbed Peter's cup of coffee. "What a weird guy," the teen mumbled, dumping the contents of the cup into the bin and dropping the empty cup in as well. "Who was he even talking to?" He wiped the table down and went back inside.

"Are you okay?" Clara questioned softly.

"I'm fine," Peter replied honestly. "This Derek here is easily worth ten of me. If I had more lives to give then I would." He smiled at her and placed a gentle hand on her cheek. "Thank you for helping me do this." His smile turned into a cat-like grin. "I'd thank you properly but I don't want your other self to get jealous."

Clara felt her face flame. "Shut up!" she exclaimed, shoving the wolf away. "You pervert. Hurry up and go into the light or whatever. You've kept my other self waiting long enough don't you think?

The wolf laughed, feeling happier than he'd felt in years. Clara- his Clara- was waiting for him. For the first time since the fire he truly felt alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know how well I translated my idea from my head to the computer this time. I really like the idea of Constants (a supernatural people that I made up) and alternate realities. And I decided that mates share a strong connection that binds them together in all realities. And if you lose your mate then all of your different selves can feel it- it can really destroy all of them. It happened to Peter and he didn't want it to happen to Derek. Because he's actually a great guy. 
> 
> Anyways.... Let me know what you think! Do I need to add more details or do I have enough for it to make sense? I might need to do some editing so help me out if you can!
> 
> Thank you! :D

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think! There's gonna be one more chapter! It might get a little angsty so I tagged it, but everyone will be happy at the end! #Happy Ending!
> 
> Also, #VoteThomasMTV


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